The Journal Journey

In January of 1996, I walked into a grocery store in Shrewsbury, MA with my father and my sister. I was seventeen . I don’t recall where exactly the store was, why we where there, or what we bought while there, save one item. The first journal I ever owned. I remember walking down the aisle with the school supplies and glancing down at the notebooks lined up on display. I looked quickly over the spirals and spotted the familiar black and white marbled cover of PenTab Composition Books. I leaned over to pick one up and held it in my hands. I remember ... Read Full Story

Here I am again. Starting another empty volume. Sitting, drinking coffee. Wondering what will become of my life. - July 19, 2003 This post is part 2 in a series entitled Symbols of Redemption. For part 1, click here . For part 2, click here . On July 19, 2003, I began my eleventh journal with the words above. “Here I am again.” They were words of recognition… “Starting another empty volume.” … of repetition… “Sitting, drinking coffee.” … tied to a dream of being a writer in a noisy café–coffee in hand–watching the world swirl and dance and provide input to the pen… ... Read Full Story

I have journals. Lots of them. Mostly in a pile on top of the bookcase in my office. Of course, you already know I have journals. I’m certain I’ve mentioned this before . But what you don’t know is that none of these journals are full. Except for one. But we’ll get to that. The rest of my journals have almost as many blank pages as full ones. Some are more empty than full. Many of them overlap in time, like my first journal (which has dated entries from January, 1996 to December, 2000) and my second (which begins in August of 1996 and ... Read Full Story

This post is part 2 in a series entitled Symbols of Redemption. For part 1, click here . Last week, in part one of this series , I talked about my many incomplete journals. I admitted that I’m pretty good about coming up with new ideas and starting new things, but that I often have trouble carrying those ideas to completion. Because this is so much a part of my personality, my journals became symbols of incompleteness beyond the blank pages themselves. They were symbols of brokenness, a lack of discipline, and all the unfinished ideas I couldn’t muster the strength to finish. And ... Read Full Story

One of the nice things about having twelve years worth of journals lying around is that I have a near-limitless reserve of material to post and make fun of when I have nothing better to blog. Today, I have nothing better to blog. Last night, I found myself once again thumbing through my first journal . I tend to keep an old journal or two close at hand because they serve as instant triggers for reminiscing. They are also incontrovertible proof that cocky kids grow up to be humble, kind and meek adults 1 . As I was nosing around in the middle of ... Read Full Story